


Forgiveness

by SilverMoon53



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a sad ending, Fitz makes a two second apperance, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, It backfires spectacularly, Post-Season/Series 05, Simmons and Daisy both say horrible things to each other, So much angst, and then they spend the whole time talking about him, but space!fitz is there, if you thought my last post s5 fic was bad, includes a short science lesson because pursuit predation is the coolest, no happy ending, tagged as major character death because they talk about the dead fitz, that one is tame fluff next to this one, there is. an attempt at comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 01:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18511480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMoon53/pseuds/SilverMoon53
Summary: Ehehehe.I had way too much fun writing this one.Enjoy





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Ehehehe.
> 
> I had way too much fun writing this one. 
> 
> Enjoy

Daisy hates it, hates _herself_ for it, but she can’t stand the sight of Fitz sometimes.

It made sense when it started. Her last significant memory of him was of _him_ , The Doctor, and she may not be a super genius but she knows enough about trauma and the brain to understand her own reaction. She had promised to never forgive Fitz for what he did, and she hadn’t. 

It’s just that this is different. A different Fitz, one who hadn’t done anything that needed forgiving. A different timeline, a different life. Daisy has no reason to hold a grudge against this Fitz. 

It’s just that she hadn’t expected it to _still_ be an issue. Not after the Fitz who did that died, not after she spent months looking for the Fitz who didn’t do anything. Daisy had had time to deal with it, they all had, and she had worked on it. At the very least, she expected the guilt of hating that Fitz when he died, at never forgiving him even though he didn’t deserve it, to be enough to push the pain away. The Fitz they found hadn’t done anything to her, it wasn’t right for her to be mad at him, to blame him for things he didn’t do. It wasn’t right to refuse to forgive him for something he didn’t do. 

It’s been weeks, though, since they got him back, caught him up on what he missed. He knows the big things, that he died, that Deke is his grandson and that he and Simmons (finally) got married. They told him how he saved them, about the future they changed and the lives they saved. 

They had left out details, though. Some they forgot, some that just didn’t seem important, some they couldn’t figure out how to say. 

Notably among the left out is how, exactly, Daisy got her inhibitor out. He asked a few times, but whoever he was talking to always changed the subject. At some point, he stopped asking. 

And he stopped asking why Daisy flinches when he looks at her.

***

Daisy hates it, but she can’t stop it.

The party seems to freeze around her, music and voices dropping away so suddenly that her heart skips. Fitz is there, across the room, facing her because he had just happened to turn in her direction. He had seen her, raised a hand to wave at her, smile on his face and life in his eyes and all she could see was The Doctor.

She clenches her hands into tight fists, fingernails biting calloused palms to keep herself from quaking him. _It’s not him, get a grip, it wasn’t him,_ she mentally screams at herself, turning away before he can see her react, or at least before she can see the hurt in his eyes that she does.

She’s too slow and sees the way his smile drips away like candle wax anyway.

Then Daisy turns and walks out of the room, going faster and faster until she’s running all out through the halls. She was 16 when she first ran away (from the orphanage, from school, from the shitty life she had known) and nearly 15 years later, she still runs away from her problems.

This time, though, she isn’t alone for long when she stops.

Her lungs have stopped burning, though her breath hasn’t quite steadied out when Simmons rounds the corner because of _course,_ it’s Simmons who finds her. Daisy drops her head back against the wall, arms resting loosely on her knees, slumped against the wall in a dark corridor. Simmons settles down on the same wall, a few feet away from her. Close enough to offer support, far enough that she isn’t crowding her. Daisy almost laughs, wondering how many times the two of them had sat like this over the years, and how many of those times were in the last two.

“How’d you find me?” Daisy asks once it’s clear that Simmons isn’t going to be the one to break the silence.

“I saw you leave the party, so I followed you.”

Daisy cracks an eye open. “How’d you keep up with me, then? I know I’m faster than you.”

“Pursuit predation,” Simmons says with the faintest ghost of a smile. Her eyes light up the way they do when she talks about biology, the way they used to always glow. For a second, Daisy considers stopping her right there, but then realises that it’s as good a method of avoiding the issue as any.

“Huh?” she asks instead, inviting Simmons to continue.

“You see, humans evolved as predators. This is fairly common knowledge, although lesser known is how exactly we killed our prey. Obviously, there’s the fact that our ancestors developed tools and worked in groups, allowing them to take down larger game than any competitors. However, there was a lesser-known tactic we used, called pursuit predation. Simply put, humans, and the sub species we evolved from, have endurance beyond any other creature. We aren’t the fastest, nor the strongest, but our advanced stamina was a unique trait. Especially as a predatory species, as many hunters depend on speed and surprise to catch their prey. Prey typically have more stamina, especially herd animals, though they still depend on quick bursts of speed to escape attack. And, of course, these bursts tire them out more quickly. Pursuit predation worked by simply following the target animal at a steady pace, sometimes for hours, sometimes for days, until the animal got too tired to continue. This completely countered the animal’s speed, and actually used it against it. You panicked, and sprinted, covering a decent distance fairly quickly, then burned out. I knew I couldn’t keep up with you, so I followed more slowly, and was able to catch up when you got too tired to keep going.” She smiles fully, clearly happy for the opportunity for a science lesson.

“So, you hunted me?”

“Well, it sounds rather morbid when you put it like that, but yes. Essentially, that’s what happened.”

“Huh.” She waits a little longer, hoping that Simmons will continue her lesson, but gives up quickly. “I suppose you’re here to chew me out for avoiding him?” To her surprise, Simmons lets out a sharp, bitter snort.

“Hardly.” 

Daisy turns to face Simmons properly at that, looking for an explanation. She’s leaning against the wall, just as Daisy is, body relaxed. Her eyes are closed, her face perfectly blank, her breathing steady. For a moment, Daisy wondered if she had imagined her friend’s harsh response. She can’t think of anything to say, so they sit in silence until Daisy’s breathing slows fully, and lines up with Simmons’s. 

After another minute, Daisy’s restless energy returns and she pushes herself up. Simmons cracks her eyes open and Daisy helps her up. She bounces on her feet uneasily for a few moments, glancing around, then starts walking down the hall. To her mild surprise, Jemma follows her. 

“The party’s back that way,” Daisy says quickly, throwing her thumb over her shoulder and not-quite looking at her friend. “If you wanted to go back.”

“I know,” Simmons says simply. “I just figured you might want the company.” 

“Thanks, but, I’m okay. You can go back, I don’t need you here.” Her words are short, her tone dismissive, and she’s not sure how much of it is true. Part of her wants to fall, sobbing, into Simmons’s arms, to be comforted as the two of them have comforted each other so many times.

Part of her hates herself for thinking that, for wanting to burden her friend even more. 

Yet another part wants to scream, wants to rage at the universe for being so unfair, wants to take her pain and fight it like a physical thing.

She does none of those things, though, and instead waits for her friend to respond. 

Simmons makes a skeptical “mmhm” noise, but is otherwise unresponsive as she keeps pace. 

They walk in silence for a short while, their steps and breathing falling naturally in synch with each other. Daisy feels her walls fall away, the way they always do around Jemma. The two of them had been through too much with each other - far too much - to keep each other out. After a while, she feels her walls fall completely, and she rakes her hands through her hair. 

Simmons stops walking, turns to face Daisy. Her face is calm, controlled, and Daisy wonders how stressed she looks in comparison. She shakes her head, trying to find the words.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out as the tears start. “I just. I _can’t_. I can’t go back. I know it isn’t fair but I just-”

“It’s alright, I’m not mad.” Jemma’s voice is steady, but Daisy knows her well enough to hear the pain beneath. “Honest. I just wanted to see how you were holding up.” 

“And here I thought I should be the one asking you that.” She tries to laugh it off, lets out a scratchy sound that’s more sob than anything, but Jemma’s face remains steady and serious.

“I mean it,” she insists. “It’s okay if you can’t look at him sometimes.”

“No, it’s not!” Daisy throws her hands up, frustration and pain and anger rushing through her. “It wasn’t him, I can’t blame him for something he didn’t even do!” She turns away, unable to stand Jemma’s calm face. Her hands shake and digs her nails in further to keep from quaking the wall.

“Yes, it is-” Simmons tries but Daisy cuts her off with a sweeping motion, turning away as she does. 

“Don’t, okay! Just don’t! You don’t get to come in here and lecture me about it, as if you have _any_ idea what it’s like, why I can’t stand to look at him! You don’t! How could you possibly know how I’m feeling, or why I _still_ can’t bring myself to forgive him?” Silence follows her outburst, for long enough that Daisy wonders if Jemma had walked away. She can’t bring herself to turn back around, scared her friend left her, scared she’s just standing there, hurt, alone. The moment grows, and guilt worms its way under the pain. Daisy takes a breath, trying to find words, but Jemma speaks before she can figure out what to say, or even check to see if she’s still there. 

“How could I know?” Jemma echos, and Daisy feels her blood freeze. She has heard Jemma say many things, in many different tones, but never had she heard one so flat. So hard. So empty. So full of anger, yet so calm. Slowly, finally, she turns around, not daring to breathe. Jemma’s stony face had turned steel, eyes narrowed ever so slightly as her voice takes a steady monotone. 

“Jemma, I-” Daisy tries, but Jemma plows on, each word a hammer’s blow, harsh and powerful.

“No, you’re right. How could I _possibly_ know what it feels like. It’s not like something similar happened to me.” Simmons isn’t moving closer, yet Daisy finds herself backing up as though she is, words coming at her like shattered glass. “It’s not like _I’ve_ ever had to fight against something that looked like him, sounded like him, even had his memory and his mind and his heart and his eyes. It’s not like _he_ stabbed me and knocked me out and tied me up and drugged me and hurt me as I _begged_ him not to.”

Daisy’s back hits the wall, her hands flying up to cover her mouth in horror. “His LMD,” she breathes through her fingers, but Simmons isn’t done. She keeps going, her voice still flat, only adding emphasis to a few words. Those words she spits with fire, her body jerking to life when she says them, then falling back to an empty shell in between. 

“And no, how can I _possibly_ know what it’s like, to blame him for something he didn’t do. Or to blame myself for something that _I_ did to _him_. I think you’re wrong, Daisy, I think you’re the one who has no idea. Because you have no idea what it was like, to look into his eyes, the eyes of the man I _love_ -“ her voice cracks on that word, cracks like a body on pavement, like a beer bottle in a drunken bar fight, like a frozen lake the moment before you fall in, “-and stab him, again and again and again, as he begged me not to.”

Silence filled the air as Daisy scrambled for something to say. How _stupid_ of her, how _foolish_ , to have forgotten about the LMDs. How _arrogant_ to act as though she was the only one with trauma. They stared at each other, tears rolling down their faces and drip dropping off their chins, but their similarities ended there. 

Daisy shakes with sobs, face contorted in pain, arms wrapped around herself in a desperate bid for comfort.

Simmons stands tall, shoulders back and chin up, completely expressionless if not for her own falling tears. 

Daisy’s legs threaten to collapse beneath her, but she pushes herself away from the wall. Careful, cautious, she edges closer to Jemma, one arm reaching out to offer whatever comfort she possibly can, no matter how small. Simmons doesn’t seem to notice, her empty eyes staring through Daisy, looking far too cold and dead. 

Daisy’s hand touches her shoulder and Simmons _snaps_ to life. One arm swipes around to dislodge Daisy’s hand, the other throwing a well aimed punch that misses by a hair as Daisy dodges backwards. Simmons’s eyes are no longer lifeless but wild with life and anger. Her tears dry from the fire within and Daisy scrambles away before Simmons can attack again. 

She doesn’t try, but the pain and suffering and fury that crashes off her in waves is more frightening than any punch. She is a statue come to life, raging like the ocean in a storm, flowing and sharp and _violent._ She paces in the small hallway, voice rising and falling as Daisy watches, helpless, a lifeboat surrendering to the winds.

“Oh, but why stop there?” Her voice is hysterical, rumbling like an earthquake, ready to tear the world in two. “It’s not like the next time I saw him, he shot a woman in cold blood, right? Not like he didn’t even recognise me. And that’s not even the worst of it, not yet, because do you remember what happened the time he saw me after that? Because _I_ do. _I_ remember how he shot me, how he held a gun to my head, how he told me that I meant nothing to him, that I was nobody to him.” 

“That’s… that’s not-” Daisy stammers, desperate.

“That’s not what? Not the same? No, I suppose it isn’t. After all, that man out there? The one you can’t stand to look at? The one you can’t forgive? The one _I_ share a bed with? He actually _remembers_ hurting me, in the Framework. He _knows_ exactly how he hurt me, knows that when I wake up screaming he can’t hold me in case it makes things worse. He knows that I sometimes see The Doctor when I look at him, knows I still feel the bullet, still see the _hate_ in his eyes when he looks at me. And that goes both ways, you know. Sometimes his memories get jumbled, and he gets his pasts mixed up, and I don’t just _see_ The Doctor, don’t just _see_ his cruelty directed at me, it’s not just my brain playing tricks on me because sometimes it’s _real._ But no, _sure_ , maybe you’re right, maybe it hurts less for me that way. After all, we both know the reason we can’t stand the sight of each other sometimes.”

“Jemma, I’m sorry, I-”

“Only he doesn’t, he _doesn’t_ always know. Because I never got the chance to tell him about what his LMD did to me, and unlike _you_ -” she spits the word with so much venom that Daisy jerks backwards, feels the the air leave her lungs “- _I_ haven’t forgotten about it. I still remember. So sometimes, when I wake up, I see _it_. He tries to calm me down after a nightmare, tells me it’s okay, that we’re together, and I hear _it_ telling me not to fight. _He_ talks about our future, and I hear _it_ telling me the same thing. And I can’t bear to tell him, can’t bear to put that on him, can’t bear to put that guilt on him when he already carries so much, I can’t make that worse.”

She stops again after that. The fire in her eyes burns as her chest heaves, body drawn up and out, falling in on itself with each ragged breath. Daisy doesn’t try to say anything, wouldn’t even if she had any idea what to say. She waits, scared and heartbroken, for Simmons to make her next move, to throw her next stone. 

She doesn’t. After a few agonizingly long moments, Simmons seems to pull back into herself. Her posture relaxes, her arms fall loosely by her side, her face arranges itself into that neutral mask. Her eyes stay wild though, stay angry and hurting and a million other things Daisy can’t name, even as tears continue falling from them and all other signs of emotion vanish.

“So tell me, _oh wise one_ ,” she snarls at last, her voice and eyes the only sign she feels anything. “Tell me, does it hurt more if he remembers it, or if he doesn’t? If he knows about the pain he caused, or if you’re the only one who remembers? Which one is harder to forgive? Tell me that, Daisy, and _then_ tell me if you think I don’t get to lecture you, or that _I_ have no idea what _you’re_ feeling.” She doesn’t wait for a response, just spins on her heel and stalks down the hallway, leaving Daisy feeling more wretched and alone than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come kill me, you can find me on tumblr or discord. I'm always happy to yell (or be yelled at) about this show, so don't be shy!
> 
> Writeblr blog: @silverssideblog  
> Discord: cloudcover#7167


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